"You spend a long time feeling that you are gradually leaving, leaving home, gradually distancing yourself, getting to a distance. A distance from which you can see the view properly. A point from which you can now write a letter home, make a call home, send them a photograph of the way you look now, tell them about just as much of your life as you want them to know about. [...]
And then there comes a time, years later, when you realise that you do finally live another kind of life and that you are, finally, living it in quite another city, a very different place from the one that you were born in. That you have, finally, left home.
But still, even though it's taken you so long, you still feel like you ran away at night taking only what you needed, only what you could carry in the one small bag. And now you know that that one small bag is all you have with you, and now here you are in the cold morning at a railway station, a bus station maybe, and you realise that all your skills and your memories and your phone numbers are all in that one bag, and of course there is the one address, and that one photo of you, with them, always there at the bottom of the bag; they are all that you have in a way, your bag and your jacket that you wear everywhere and your shoes that you wear everywhere. And sometimes then you want to cry, cry, cry, you wish they would have you back, you wish there was somewhere to go back to or some home to go back to, a way back or more exactly a way that you need never have left... and at other times well you pick up that bag, you pick up that bag smiling to yourself and you get on that train."